The band was packing their instruments and the last guests were pocketing wrapped wedges of cake. While the grooms family loaded the remaining cars I followed a few stragglers out of the ballroom and into the hotel's bar for a nightcap. I knew just about everyone at the wedding and of course I was related to most of them. My name is Anthony and it was my niece's wedding. It was a pleasant evening but times change and people move on. I had done a long stretch in the service and now lived far from the family. These get-togethers can grow old fast, after a few hours.
I had heard all the family gossip a thousand times and was never much for big gatherings of the clan. I still chuckled at my uncles' tired, old jokes. I oohed and aawwed at the newest baby pictures. And I exchanged obligatory hugs and kisses with all my aunt and cousins.
My forty-five years in the family had all been good ones. I was proud of my folks and happy to be related, but a large, close-knit family can be over-whelming. And this was one of those times. Fortunately the bartender was enjoying the five-spot I left with each order, and my glass was never empty. As he filled another small tin with Canadian Whiskey and swirled it gently in his hand; I heard a long-lost voice over my shoulder say, "I'll have a shot of whatever that is."
It was the smoky, sexy strains of my cousin Olivia. I didn't need to turn around. The scent of Chanel drifted over me as her lacquered red nails wrapped around my rib cage and long, full waves of her raven hair fell about my shoulders.
I could smell the tobacco on her breath and feel the gold bangles in her lobes. I sensed the ripples down my spine as she playfully nibbled at my neck and ears. She tussled my crew-cut as she had when she was my babysitter way back in the day, and slid on to the next barstool. "I'm going to need another beer to wash down whatever he's pouring." We clinked glasses and toasted the new happy couple.
Olivia was always rumored to be the "party girl," but appearances were deceiving. Admittedly, in her prime those double-d's entertained the boys as a go-go dancer, cocktail server and flight attendant among other things. On a petite frame with luscious dark locks and eyes, she seemed to be a lit stick of dynamite. But she was always a good girl who earned her own way and never caused trouble.
She was now a little past fifty but the years had treated her well, at least physically. It's true she was twice divorced, one adult child in rehab and one other living as a guest of the state for the past ten years, but that's a story for another time. A few laugh lines and a bit more padding only added to the allure of a fantasy MILF. In truth she was just a lonely divorcee struggling to get by.
I was the youngest in my immediate family by about ten years and she was an only child. Our mothers were sisters and lived on the same block. Which brought our tight little family group together on many occasions. She would often spend the night and even vacation with us. So from an early age my daydreams grew into prime masturbation material with Olivia at the heart of it. I often caught fleeting glimpses of a firm ass and amazingly full, round breasts in bikinis, pajamas or short, tight dresses. It was this painfully off-limits body that always triggered my imagination. I learned emotional angst at an early stage.
It's not just that she had nearly ten years on me and considered me a nuisance. Or even that if she hadn't been attracted to older men and "bad boys," I was still a kid and more interested in baseball, and would have been too immature to ever act on my pubescent crush. And also the notion of incest and corruption were terrifyingly taboo in our Old-World Catholic family.
But now in the first quarter of the twenty-first century, society's walls were crumbling. We were both well into middle age, trudging through quiet, desperate lives, stoked with the chain-break of alcohol and would both be on airplanes tomorrow. I did not realize it at that moment but these two passing ships were destined to meet in the night.
As the evening's festivities dwindled into a last-call of lonely people saying their good-byes, Livy and I had run the gamut of conversation from schools, jobs, relations and family. Our two-o'clock dialogue, fueled by melancholy and quick-paced due to impending separation; had taken on sexual undertones and been marked by leering looks, furtive back rubs and lewd remarks. It seemed to be just the light banter of distant cousins reconnecting. With the sly innuendo or dirty joke as a natural part of the conversation.
She mentioned that she had wine and vodka in her room and I snagged a six-pack at the last moment. We trundled off to the elevator for an innocent parting drink to talk about the next family reunion, thinking only of exchanging numbers and trading laughs.
I wasn't crude or perverted enough to actually plot a rendezvous with my cousin, but I did have eyes. And Olivia could still fill-out a dress. Even in a burlap sack, she would capture your attention. She wore a clingy, purple dress that hugged her many curves, low-cut and off-the-shoulder. It would take a magician to hide those tits so why bother, besides they had always been her calling card. And even though most of the tales about her scandalous reputation were over-blown and wrong, she still enjoyed the salacious looks she could draw.
Her physique was a marvel to structural-engineering. Those fleshy globes bounced deliciously, barely concealed under the dark material, and each step in her stiletto heels sent small ripples across her massive boobs. Livy had liquid-chocolate eyes in a round face with big cheeks and warm sensuous lips. The worn semblance of pink gloss had matched the nails on her fingers and toes. And her slightly lined olive complexion was framed by mounds of coal-black hair that tumbled in sheets across her bare shoulders and down her back.
Of course by the time the elevator deposited us on the eleventh floor, her shoes were in one hand while the other supported the weight of her raven tresses. She had asked me to unzip the back of her too-tight dress and mentioned that while I poured drinks, she was planning to shower and change into lounging pajamas so that we could chat until I had to leave.
I will admit that while unhooking her dress and gazing past her neck and down the front of her abundant proportions, my blood (not to mention my cock,) began to stir. At one point, as the car came to a stop, she stumbled bare-footed and fell back against me. I supported her by locking two hands under the cups of her heaving breasts. And I know she felt the prodding force of my sheathed cock, poking at her soft, round ass. We both loosed a stilted laugh and quickly separated. I felt the warmth of her body and noticed a slight sheen to her contours. A hint of perfume still lingered and my eyes followed her alluring, slightly wobbly bounce, as she tip-toed along the hall and into her room.
Once inside, Liv said to relax as she ducked into the bathroom. I could hear faucets running and drawers sliding as her clothes hit the floor. I'm not a big dress-up guy, so I was quickly reduced to wrinkled black slacks and tee-shirt, formal shirt and tie discarded and shoes, socks and belt thrown on the floor. I poured libations for us both and clicked on the t.v. I scanned the tiny room and saw a small table and chairs heaped with her travel clothes and accessories. So placing our drinks on the nightstand, I slouched against the headboard of the only bed in the room.
For a moment I thought of how inappropriate this may appear to an outsider, but we were adults and family. It would seem strange to stand fully dressed in a far corner. Other than the normal sexual musings that dance through the head of a slightly inebriated, half-dressed guy, laying on a beautiful, sexy woman's bed, everything seemed casual and innocuous.
Olivia popped out of the bathroom and the temperature in the room instantly began to rise. She wore short, tight undies that revealed a pair of remarkably toned legs. The orange silky material contrasted nicely with her tanned stems and clung revealingly to her wide hips. In the mirror I spied the bottom of both butt-cheeks peeking out, and the obvious delineation of her plump rear end. But as she pranced towards the bed, leaned over to grab her drink and plop down beside me, it was those magnificent breasts that stole the show.
If she seriously believed that this frilly, see-through baby doll top could conceal her assets, she was woefully mistaken. And if this was some half-drunk, playful tease for a harmless relative it was slow torture. I needed to sub-consciously douse my head with cold water and remember that she was my cousin and dangerously off-limits!
Over the course of forty minutes to an hour, we were just grown-up kids again. Laughter, regrets, memories and hopes were tossed about and argued over. We settled into a comfortable embrace, mostly laughing at the good times, her head resting on my shoulder, me playing with her long, thick hair. It occurred to us later that I was booked at another hotel, and it was now after four a.m. So it didn't require much debate to just turn off the television and click the lights. A stilted, awkward moment followed as I slipped off my pants, kissed her on the forehead and we ducked under the sheets, leaving as much room between us as the tiny bed allowed.
She broke the strained silence by saying, "Tony, please cuddle me until I fall asleep. Sometimes I feel so lonely and it's been years since anyone held me." We laid on our sides and she gingerly backed into me, wedging her warm, soft butt against my crotch with her legs mingling between mine. Her head was nestled in the crook of my left arm, my nose and mouth pressed to her neck inhaling the hint of shampoo and pheromones. My right arm looped over her chest and rested unavoidably between the two cushy mounds of her cavernous cleavage.
I don't know the precise order of events, but it wasn't long before her ass squirmed and my raging cock ground against her. My hand began to roam like it had a mind of its own. Soon my fingers were twiddling the distended tips of her large, dark nipples and I squeezed them between my fingers and thumb, rolling and pinching them while I kneaded their heavy globes.
She purred seductively and her right hand slowly eased along my thigh and worked its way inside my shorts. As much as I worshipped those enormous tits, my hand slid down her belly and started to explore the steamy triangle at her hips. Livy moaned and coyly spread her legs allowing me to play among the coarse curls of her trim mound. Soon my wandering digits found a warm, moist opening inviting further exploration, and she kicked off the sheets and rolled onto her back with her legs spread conveniently apart.
My cock grew to attention as she stroked it hesitantly. She wrestled my shorts off and worked the full length of my rod, unconstructed by any material. It wasn't long until drops of oily residue beaded up at the tip. She lubed her palm with my secretions and rubbed a steady, brisk action up and down. Her motion grew more insistent and my cock doubled in length and circumference. She varied her rhythm, toying with the purplish mushroom head then sliding down to my balls and cupping them in her hand like fondling big marbles.
